


Yellow

by TheTimelessChild0



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Allergies, Desperation, Embarrassment, Fluff, Friendship, Hugging, Misunderstandings, Sickfic, Time Lord Biology, Wetting, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:14:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24007207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTimelessChild0/pseuds/TheTimelessChild0
Summary: A seemingly innocuous beverage has a mysterious, butfamiliarside effect. Questions are asked.
Kudos: 14





	1. A Little Accident

Maybe the Doctor should’ve told Martha about his allergies. It was common sense, after all. At the start of their travels, he’d put it off, figuring it was unlikely that one would become relevant, and none of the reactions were very severe. At least, they _usually_ weren’t. 

This was one of the moments he really wished he could _kill_ Captain Jack. Permanently. 

They had been relaxing in the Hub, celebrating the return of Earth to its proper place. It started as a short reunion but ended up lasting the night, because now that he was alone, his sadness was out and proud on his face, and both humans had kept him there trying to pry it off. Jack’s contribution came in the form of a drink. 

“Trying to get me drunk won’t work, I’ve told you a million times, Captain,” the Doctor rolled his eyes, looking at what looked like champagne.

“How do you _still_ think so badly of me? It’s just apple juice, Doc. Alien apple juice. Maybe you’ve had it before,” Jack shrugged, winking at the Doctor as he handed him a bottle. 

“Nope, not this brand..” he murmured, licking his lips. Whatever it was, it was _delicious_. 

The conversation continued as normal, until the Doctor began hiccuping. Which he wasn't supposed to be able to do.

“Mhm, bubbles” he commented, amused. 

“There aren’t any bubbles in this, Doc..” Jack corrected. The Doctor raised an eyebrow, peering at his drink. 

“Must be the respiratory bypass,” he reasoned. 

Immediately disproving that, the Doctor sneezed. Which was also, _unusual_ for Time Lords already, but additionally, it wasn’t droplets. It was bright, golden, regeneration energy. 

“Doctor. That’s not normal,” Martha remarked. 

“Maybe I’m coming down with something,” the Doctor shrugged. 

He then coughed, quickly wiping some sweat off his face. 

“Dust,” he waved his hand dismissively, sitting down. 

Fortunately, Martha and Jack were still preoccupied with using their shared knowledge to diagnose his condition and didn’t notice what he did next. He crossed his legs. Tightly. 

_Okay..that..is weird,_ he admitted to himself. It hadn’t yet been three days. Close maybe, but it was still early enough that the need would usually manifest itself on the TARDIS. The typical side effect of only going onboard the ship. 

Another thing his bladder never did was jump up on him like that, with an extreme need. He fiddled with his sonic, trying his very best _not_ to wriggle.

* * *

Eventually, after only a few minutes(felt like hours) the 2 humans got distracted discussing some of the technology surrounding them, and sharing stories. 

So he carefully hobbled away into the hallway and took off sprinting. At this point, he didn’t _care_ if anyone spotted him. He’d never see them again, and he was far too **desperate** to care about his image. Not like the others knew his biology that well anyway.

It quickly became apparent that the hallways at Torchwood were like a maze. He ran left and right, still feeling like he was running around in circles. The white, almost _porcelain_ -like walls weren’t helping either. 

After yet another turn, he felt a spurt and gulped in panic. He would swallow all sense of dignity he held dear, in regards to the “other” Doctor, to get directions, if only he knew how to find _her_. 

Holding on became painful, as he hunched over, grunting. 

He resolved to try walking in a straight line. The way the corridors intertwined, meant there were no dead ends, no traditional corners, at least not for a while. It was very wide in the underground base. 

The Doctor was now running with both hands in his crotch, putting his hand on the walls for balance every now and then. 

Every time he did, more leaks dribbled forth. 

The leaks increased in length as he spotted a silvery symbol on a door in the distance. It wasn’t letters, so it couldn’t be a room containing anything alien-related. Except for the alien that was _him_ , who needed the _loo_ , of course. 

He made his right hand into a fist to squeeze the flow into a halt. At this point, his pants were soaked, and his trousers were next. But it only slowed down. 

Wishing intently to salvage at least _some_ of his clothes’ dryness (he had the setting on the sonic), the Doctor hobbled along, containing coughs that were tickling him, similar to the way his bladder was. 

One such cough escaped, so the Doctor dug his fingers into his crotch as deep as he could, standing still with crossed legs. The way his sphincter was pulsing, he knew if he let go with his hand for even a second, his bladder would _let go_ with it. 

He took a deep (careful) breath, rubbing his thigh with his fist. He confidently took a step forward. 

But alas, in the process of barrelling forward, his hand slipped away. And the floodgates opened. The Doctor sighed through his nose, putting one hand on his bladder feeling it collapse like a runaway balloon. 

_Runaway is correct..._

The other hand went to cover his eyes, as he just focused on the sensation. His face went completely red, despite his presumed privacy. The Doctor wiped some sweat off his cheeks, and dropped his hands, sighing in relief. 

He smiled out of the corner of his mouth. It was humiliating but..also quite good. 

One thing was clear: there was definitely something very wrong with his body. 

Yet, he could only concentrate on the very natural thing currently happening. 

His hands fiddled with his hair, as he felt his stream sailing down his legs into a puddle. 

Finally, it stopped. He looked down. He had peed _a lot_. 

The Doctor just rolled his eyes, and scratched the back of his head, making sure no one was heading down that same hallway. If only he emerged from the bathroom with clean clothes, the puddle would be assumed to be something else, from someone else. 

“Well, that happened,” he remarked to himself, going into the bathroom to change. Nevermind what he had intended to do in there…

He put the _severely_ damp clothing in the plastic bag he’d started carrying. It was meant for trips to swamp planets, but you can’t have your cake and eat it too. 

It wasn’t perfect, the cleaning process, but he felt well enough to manage without a shower until the approaching night. 

At least no one would know….

*************

Martha stepped out of the TARDIS, frowning in concern. 

“Where’d he go?” she asked out loud, as Jack re-entered the room. 

“Well, he did have a whole bottle of juice. Don’t forget..his metabolism is different,” Jack mentioned. “He probably just went to use the bathroom here,” he attempted to reassure her.

“He didn’t look drunk, Jack. He looked..sickly,” Martha insisted. “I don’t even know if he remembers where it is, let alone if anyone ever told him,” 

“Doesn’t matter. There are signs in every intersection, and right there, at the opening to the corridors,” Harkness pointed to a small strip of white with letters and symbols on it, on the wall. 

“He may be immortal but he’s not invulnerable. He could be vomiting blood,” she argued, heading for the corridor. 

“Okay, now you’re exaggerating,” Jack protested. 

“Maybe, but he underestimates himself,” Martha reminded him.

“Check his livers,” Jack joked, ignoring her. 

* * *

Martha followed the sign to the bathroom until she came across a big yellow puddle. 

She knew he was the only one in the corridor. She also knew he was ill. The evidence spoke volumes. 

The Doctor stepped out of the bathroom, looking much more stable than Martha had imagined. His eyes widened as he spotted her, and realised she’d seen the puddle. 

He was about to act surprised at the sight of said puddle, when Martha spoke up. 

“Had a little _accident_ , I see,” she smiled kindly at him, pointing at the puddle. 

Internally, the Doctor tried and failed to find a reason why she found out from something he’d done, as if it wasn’t a trick of fate. 

He blushed, momentarily worried about what she’d say. 

“It’s fine Doctor. Happens to us all,” Martha assured him. 

The Doctor rolled his eyes, nodding awkwardly at her. The speech was doomed to never improve his mood. 

As he stepped to the side, to go back to the TARDIS and sulk for five hours, Martha asked a sudden, and unexpected, question. 

“So, where is it?” 

“Where’s what?” he questioned, hoping she didn’t mean his clothes. 

“The empty bottle,” she clarified. 

A wave of relief went through the Doctor, again. 

She’d _misunderstood_ . He opened his mouth, realising. The puddle was _yellow_. A rare colour for Time Lords, so naturally, with no one else to blame, she’d dismissed it as the _juice._

“Oh, right. Er, I put it in my pocket. Thought I’d analyse the few drops, see why it gave me the sniffles,” he lied, patting his pocket. 

Martha frowned sceptically, then shrugged and walked off, giving him a thumbs up. 

He gave her one in return which she didn’t see, high fiving the puddle. That was the first time he’d gotten away with having an accident. 

The fact that the Doctor hadn’t just shown her the bottle, continued to trouble Martha as she walked back. Usually, she’d just pass it off as him being an alien. But this time she couldn’t. It was as if it hinted towards something. What, she didn’t know. 

  
She couldn’t help but wonder, _why the smell of the puddle felt so..familiar?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TO BE CONTINUED...**


	2. Investigation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both find answers..secretly.

The Doctor hated being proven wrong. Most of all when it was by _himself_.

He hadn’t bothered to look into the _incident_ figuring the something that was upsetting his body was happy, now that he’d peed, even if it was not exactly where he _normally_ went.

But there was clearly still something there. He’d been running to the toilet at least twice a day, each with their own excuse to Martha. He’d liked to use the scale at least once, with all the toilet breaks he was having like a _human_ , but breaching the subject of his bladder in any way would lead to her offering help with what was wrong.

And that wasn’t happening. Literally any test she would do to investigate, would ask the one question that always made him blush, and that he usually admitted. Until now. “Have you had trouble with _continence_?”

Yes would be an understatement. 

************

Martha wasn’t an idiot. She knew where he was going. What she didn’t know, was why? She ignored it, not because she trusted him to look after himself, but because she knew if she pretended to be oblivious, he might be more inclined to share this type of thing later. He deserved some privacy. He was himself again. Sort of. 

As his condition progressed, the Doctor wondered if he had a bladder infection. But he dismissed it. It was sometimes warned through orange urine not yellow. The yellow was from the apple juice, from no chemicals “mingling” with it. It just got watered down, turned into urine and sent out, with _haste_. 

*************

Now, however, his bladder was using the opposite of haste. Nothing was coming out. And it hurt. Bad. He could feel it. He tried everything to get out even the slightest drop. No result. 

* * *

Martha found the Doctor hopping in front of the console. Not entirely unusual, though it was clear he wasn’t doing anything with his button pressing. 

_He must be thinking back to hopping for his life,_ she figured, amused. 

She cleared her throat to announce her presence. The Doctor bounced over to her, keeping this movement going, on the spot. 

“Doctor. Are you on the scale?” Martha smiled. It was equally common for him to work on something on the TARDIS and forget his bladder entirely. She didn’t blame him, with how hyperactive it was currently being. 

“Of course not,” the Doctor folded his arms, straightening up and standing perfectly still. 

Martha could now see clearly the full bladder through his tight suit. She made the move to tap at it, both for inspection and as _leverage_. But her hand was slapped away. The Doctor looked at her warningly. 

“Doctor. What’s going on?” she asked softly. 

“It’s stuck,” he sighed. The Doctor began his bouncing again, hands in frustrated fists, punching the air. 

“What do you mean, stuck?..” Martha continued, confused. 

“Won’t come out. Tried everything,” the Doctor explained. 

“Even a diuretic?..” she checked, guessing he did not. Diuretics were in varied supply on the TARDIS, one should’ve worked. 

“What if it doesn’t work?” he muttered. 

“Why wouldn’t it?” 

The Doctor stiffened, bouncing on his heels. 

“Nothing,” he said quickly, waving her to follow him to the medbay. 

_That was close_ . The _why_ was because of the yellow urine, which Martha didn’t know about. And never would, if he could help it. 

* * *

Taking the risk, the Doctor took out the universal diuretic, Radolin. It was the best for cases where the muscles or the urethra was suspected to be twisted in some way. 

Martha went to turn it off, and _accidentally_ pushed the button, requesting the ship take a urine sample. She got out her special app, synching it to the ship, so the results would go straight to her rather than the Doctor. 

The TARDIS gently stroked Martha’s serotonin levels, in gratitude. 

She shook her head at the gesture. _Mentally hugged by a spaceship. Mental,_ she noted.

*************

The Doctor wasn’t surprised to see his urine yellow again, nor was he surprised to see the volume. He just leaned back, left shoulder resting on the sink, moaning. The TARDIS took the liberty of turning off the soundproofing temporarily when Martha happened to walk by.

She almost soaked _herself_ in laughter. 

_Out it goes…_ she thought fondly.

* * *

After this process, both went their separate ways. Martha claimed to be checking some of the equipment at Torchwood, while really she was biding her time until the results came. It was lucky, that the Doctor was too distracted by the bliss of relieving himself to notice anything off about the flush he did after.

The Doctor went to the library to finally figure out what had happened. And figure it out he did. 

Apparently, the apples that the juice was made from, contained traces of a compound in their seeds, which went into the juice in the factories. This compound was one Time Lords were allergic to. It used to cause regeneration, but evolved to be much milder by the time the Doctor was born. 

Martha also received some answers. Her computer chirped to deliver the results. 

She gasped silently as she gawked at the screen. Multiple things became clear. 

Firstly, she was right, the Doctor’s symptoms were all caused by the juice. The second thing she realised, was why. He was allergic. It made sense, that he didn’t tell her. She assumed some part of him retained the knowledge that a detox-like process would be started, and selectively forgot. Just like he tried to forget that he had a bladder, unsuccessfully, of course. 

But it was the third thing that surprised her the most. It explained why the Doctor was so nervous after spilling the juice on the floor. Why he rolled his eyes when she forgave him, _as if_ he’d heard it before, and why he didn’t show her the bottle. Answer: because there _was_ no bottle. Finally, it explained why the smell of the puddle was familiar to her. Because she'd smelt it _before._

Right there, on the screen, was the urine colour. Stated in English, and through a big square. She sighed deeply in sympathy at the colour. 

_Yellow_.


	3. Everything comes together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And _everyone.._

Captain Jack had been appointed as the janitor, when Martha had to help one of the other members of his team coming back from a mission. He did it without grumbling, since it was his fault that he got their alien “tipsy” or whatever the hell happened to the Doctor.

He stopped in his tracks when he found the puddle. First thought that came to mind was, _that really looks like pee._ Second thought was ‘He didn’t leave that much in the bottle, did he?..’ 

The “spill” looked far too large for how much of the liquid had gone into the Doctor during their conversation. Except..if this was how it came _out_. 

He slowly approached the puddle and smelled it. It definitely did not smell like the juice. It did smell vaguely like the Doctor..particularly the post- _accident_ version of him.

_So not drunk then..._ he reasoned as he began mopping up the puddle. The Doctor would put on a diaper and lock himself in his bedroom, if anyone tricked him into drinking that much. 

* * *

Martha walked into the TARDIS, with resolve. She knew, she had to tread carefully, or he would blatantly deny everything. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked the Doctor seriously. 

His eyes darted around the bigger-on-the-inside room. _How much did she know?_

“Tell you what?” he acted oblivious, despite having an idea. 

“About your allergy,” Martha clarified. 

The Doctor sighed silently. He was in the clear. For now...

“I didn’t think it would be relevant,” he answered honestly. 

“Well, I think your bladder would disagree with that,” she reminded him. 

Now, the Doctor thought he was off the hook, completely. She had yet to mention anything that she wasn’t present for. 

“How did you know about the allergy?” the Doctor couldn’t help asking. 

Martha made a noise of sympathy, and walked over to stroke his hair, by his ears, where she knew it tickled. Then she beckoned him to follow her out of the TARDIS. 

With her back turned, she put the picture of the urine test results up on the screen. 

“I had the ship take a test after you took the diuretic,” Martha explained. 

“Which she did without protesting in the slightest..” the Doctor rolled his eyes, walking over to the screen. He stopped, gasping. His eyes widened as he realised that the test also recorded the _colour_. 

His face went completely red, as he hid it in his hands.

Martha took that as her cue to hug him. 

“I said it was alright, and I meant it. Even if the context was technically different. I’ve said that the last time it happened and it’s still true,” she stroked his back, feeling the warmth of his cheeks. 

“Sorry I didn’t tell you,” he mumbled, swallowing stiffly. 

“Hey, I figured it out on my own. But you’re right. I’m a Doctor too. I would never judge you. And I want to know when this happens to you, so I can make sure you don’t hurt your bladder again because of it,” Martha stressed, grabbing his temples and staring into his eyes. 

The Doctor felt the pit of shame in his chest dissolve and be replaced by warmth. He smiled widely at her and nodded. 

“Hey, how did you figure it out so fast?!” Jack protested, spotting the screen. 

Martha acted quickly, turning off the monitor. 

“Figure out what?” 

“About the puddle,” he clarified, raising an eyebrow hintingly.

“Right, sorry about that, you remember how I was, 5 seconds from falling over..” the Doctor attempted to recover his earlier excuse. 

“Drop it, Doc. I was the one who cleaned it up, not Martha. I’ve smelt your piss before,” Jack stated bluntly. 

A small blush formed on the Doctor’s face. He began twirling his fingers nervously. 

“Hey, what’s with the puppy dog eyes, it’s no problem really. What do you take me for, an ass? That was the other _you_!” Jack joked, pointing at the Doctor. 

The Doctor tilted his head, scoffing in mild agreement. 

“I’m your bro, Mr Spock. I may be missing three years of my life but I’m not an idiot. I know it was an accident. My lips are sealed,” Jack promised. He proceeded to mimic the typical zipping of the lips gesture, only to then toss the imaginary key out of the _window_ , making a “glass smashing” sound effect. 

“Mind fixing that?” he asked, dead serious. 

“Not at all,” the Doctor replied, equally seriously, lighting up his sonic at the still intact window. 

Martha started laughing. So did they. 

**********

“So, what was the cause of all this? Things coming out of your orifices?” Jack wondered, curiously. 

  
“Jack,” the Doctor whined. 

“Not the right word? _Holes_?” he tried again. 

“Just stop,” the Time Lord requested firmly. 

“He didn’t mean it like that,” Martha defended. Jack confirmed it through raising his arms in surrender, smiling. 

“Touchy subject, I get it. But pretending it didn’t happen doesn’t change reality. Or history, which you should know better than most,” Jack pointed out. 

The Doctor rubbed his face and took a deep breath. He rubbed the back of his head, reluctantly beginning. His arms were crossed like they usually were when things were explained.

“The apples used to make the juice contain seeds, like all apples. These seeds are about 10% random amino acids and the like, which is harmless for most species including mine..and 90% a compound that I’m quite seriously allergic to. This compound ends up in the juice through every few apples being blended up..including the bottle I drank. Statistically, the odds are against me when it comes to these apples,” the Doctor shrugged. 

“Is there a book on allergies in the library?” Martha decided to get ahead of things. The Doctor nodded an affirmative and waved her off to read, which she did. 

“Sorry about what happened. I should’ve checked,” Jack apologised. 

  
“It’s not your fault, I’m the one who should’ve mentioned my allergies. If only they were less _humiliating.._ ” the Doctor dismissed him, gritting his teeth in frustration. 

“How about we say it’s nobody’s fault and call it a day?” Jack suggested, smiling brightly. 

“Okay,” the Doctor surrendered. He could never resist Jack’s smiles.

What happened next surprised the Doctor. Jack walked over casually and hugged him tightly. The Time Lord couldn’t help but chuckle at the sudden repeat of their past hugging trend. But eventually, he just dug his chin into the human’s shoulder, and closed his eyes, enjoying the comfort. 

“Thank you for not telling anyone,” he whispered.

“There’s nothing to tell,” Jack replied. 

The Doctor wiped off some tears after dismantling the hug. This time, however.. they were _happy_ tears.

The End.


End file.
